


A Court of Villains and Heroes

by urmomkididk



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Cute Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Death, Depression, Drunk Nesta Archeron, F/F, F/M, Illnesses, M/M, POV Nesta Archeron, Rough Sex, Sex, Suggestive Themes, Villains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:34:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28525557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urmomkididk/pseuds/urmomkididk
Summary: Set after A Court of Silver Flames. Nesta thought Cassian was her one love, but after he finds his true mate and leaves her in the dust, she has to find the true meaning of her endless life. Follow the eldest Archeron sister on her journey away from the safety of Feyre and the inner circle, and into the dangerous waters of an infamous lake. Will Nesta find herself, or lose what small bit of herself she has left?
Relationships: Amren & Nesta Archeron, Amren/Varian (ACoTaR), Azriel/Morrigan (ACoTaR), Cassian & Morrigan (ACoTaR), Elain Archeron & Lucien Vanserra, Elain Archeron/Azriel, Feyre Archeron & Lucien Vanserra, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Feyre Archeron/Tamlin, Nesta Archeron/Cassian, Tamlin & Lucien Vanserra
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! Although I am the biggest Nessian shipper, I've always wondered what it be like if Nesta left him to find herself. People often seem to forget she's been compared to gods, and that might mean Cassian is unfortunately not strong enough to handle her. Idk guys, but I'm kinda proud of my ideas lol. I hope you enjoy, and please comment for more suggestions to me <33

_A god._

With bones of paper and a heart of dust, she drunkenly whispered.

_A god._

Her serene face and the ashes of her sanity shook. She was a god. An all powerful god that could destroy the world if that was what she pleased. A god that could tap a finger against the soil and watch it all decay beneath her polished nail. She could do anything she wanted, and yet, she had no one. No one that could satisfy the hunger that crawled beneath her skin; the hunger that told her to kill everything and everyone that stood in her path. 

A laugh. A withering laugh at her own state. How ironic that she could control people's lives, yet could not get someone to love her. To _truly_ love her. She was a fraud hiding in the skin of a woman. A god, hiding in the skin of a human. 

\----

Nesta Archeron stared at the small blue bird that had landed upon her window sill, tracking its every movement. It stared back for a moment before twitching its head to the side and spreading its miniscule wings out and in. Nesta didn't move, still watching as it glanced back at her and then took off into the reddened sky. A cowardly animal. To rather fly away than face something bigger than. 

_To be a bird..._

"Nesta?" she had heard him before he spoke, but had very much chosen to ignore it. She'd much rather watch a million birds fly away than face him. "Nesta," Cassian repeated, the awkwardness filling her lungs. Still, she did not answer, only looking up at where the bird had finally disappeared out of sight. He repeated her name once more, but her eyes kept onto the outside, breathing in the different colors in the sky, finding different patterns in the clouds. 

A warm hand tightened on her wrist. "Nesta, please," she slowly turned away from the window, keeping her expression even and unbothered as she took in his annoyingly handsome face. The same as it always had been. Tanned skin that looked like summer, with hazel eyes that captured her with such intensity she wanted to scream. How funny that they used to belong to her... how sad. 

"Cassian." a cold voice. 

He only stared. So many emotions swirling in those beautiful eyes, but Nesta did not care. She only stared back. 

"Speak."

"Feyre has requested you," 

So she walked to the exit, not even bothering to say any thanks to Cassian, or nodding in understanding. With a flick of her fingers, the wooden door swung open for her to pass, closing in her departure, trapping the Illyrian inside. The hallway was silent as a tiger stalking prey, only a small echo of Nesta's silver shoes ringing in her ears. She kept her eyes ahead of her, refusing to look at the pictures of both her sisters' new friends and their mind numbingly boring adventures. She knew they kept her away for a reason. Knew they hated her for what she did to Feyre, and how she treated Cassian, but she did not care. They were blind fools, to think she was the only one in the wrong. 

_Why waste breath on people that are too used to being the hero in their own fairytales?_

She reached the first intersection, now staring at a new hall. Obviously, they kept her as physically far as they could as well. This one wasn’t done being decorated, but by the few paintings hung up, Nesta could tell it was going to be Feyre’s personal gallery. It almost made her smile. Feyre had always loved art, it was apparent since they were young girls picking out dresses, and all she did was rip the fabrics to shreds and create masterpieces of imagination. Nesta had always been jealous of the joy that came from her work. 

She continued to walk, but this time she let herself enjoy the portraits and landscapes that lined the hall. A small pleasure she got to have; one she could only help herself to whilst she was alone. She found herself stopping at the most recently made painting, her lips slightly parting. Cassian. Cassian and- she pressed her mouth closed. Cassian and his mate. A portrait. Deniasa stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him, leaning her thing face on his chest and smiling widely. Cassian’s was almost bigger, holding the female with his strong hands. A knot tied inside of Nesta, big enough the throw away all her senses. She could not move. She only looked into the painted depths of Cassian’s eyes.

“I thought you would get stuck here,” a male voice that sounded so alike Cassian’s awoke her. The joy was short lived as he appeared in front of her. 

The High Lord of the Night Court towered over Nesta, his muscular arms crossed and his wings visible behind his back. His purple eyes locked into Nesta’s, trying to will her bow. She only stood up straighter and walked past him, falling back into her state of indifference. Thank cauldron there were no more paintings. 

She stopped. And just a millisecond after, Rhysand was in front of her once again. 

“You have no right to turn away from a High Lord,” he snarled, his wings ruffling. 

“You do not scare me, Lord Rhysand.” was her only response before she continued to walk. It was true that he could truly do nothing to her. Ever since she tapped into her powers to kill the King of Hybern, a permanent shield had covered her mind, preventing any sort of his trickery. As for physically hurting her.. Feyre would kill him if he tried. Nesta almost hoped he did. 

“You walk a dangerous path, Nesta,” she felt his stare boring into the back of her head. “One not many survive.”

This made her stop. Made her angry. She had never seen someone so arrogant and idiotic. She turned to him, chin raised and face calm. “Lord Rhysand, you might be one of the most powerful fae to exist, but let me be perfectly clear,” slowly but surely she made her way to him. “I am not fae. I am not human. I am a god.” 

_A god._

This time he did nothing but hiss in retaliation, and Nesta took the chance to leave the painted hallway. A facade is what she had been putting up. An act that she knew how to use her powers. Something the inner circle must be realizing. 

At last, she found the arched entrance to the sitting room. Light beamed through the ceiling tall windows, and light orchestral music played somewhere off to the right. Nesta sweeped the area for Feyre, surprised when she was nowhere to be found. She waited for a moment more before slowly sitting on a cushioned red dining chair. To her left, a stack of old books scattered the table, each covered in layers upon layers of dust. She tentatively reached for one, dusting the front off just enough to see the title. 

_Farah and Hart_

Romance. Since residing here in Velaris, Nesta felt she had read every romance novel there ever was, racking the shelves of every library and room she could find. Soon after, she had resulted to horror, some classics, and finally stopped reading altogether. How she missed flipping through pages and forgetting about all of life’s worries. She looked around once more for Feyre, coming up empty, and opened the book. 

She flipped through the pages so quickly, time seemed to stop. Every sentence filled her heart with a different emotion, some with joy, some anger, some sadness, and some love. A story of a poor young girl and a rich young boy. How similar to Feyre and Rhysand's story. Although, from what she had read so far, she would choose Farah and Hart over them any say.

Before she was even one part in, Feyre rushed into the room. 

“Oh god, Nesta,” she panted. “I’m so sorry, I got caught up in court business,” 

She looked to her sister and nodded once, upset she had to look away from the pages of her new book. Feyre sucked in a deep breath before taking the seat next to Nesta. 

“I had a favor I wanted to ask you to do for me,” Feyre said, reaching out her hand and placing it on Nesta’s. “It’s really important to me.” 

“You’re a High Lady,” Nesta looked back to her book. “Can you not do it yourself?”

“It’s something special,”

Nesta locked eyes with her youngest sister. “Go on,”

“Rhys’ birthday is coming soon, and Cassian and I were going to-”

“No.”

Silence cut through the air. Feyre seemed taken aback by Nesta’s quick decline, but only hesitated for a moment. 

“Nesta, I know it’s hard to be around Cassian, but you must get over Deniasa at some point,” she squeezed Nesta’s hand. “Maybe that time is now.”

Nesta pulled away, grabbing the book and standing. “I said no,”

“Nesta,” Feyre pleaded. “I know what it’s like to have someone you love hurt you,”

“You know nothing,” Nesta snapped, turning on her heel and heading back to the arched doorway. 

“You do not turn your back on a High Lady, Nesta,” Feyre’s voice turned hard. A few months ago, it would have frightened Nesta, but now it was the same old trick they all used. The same thing they all did to manipulate Nesta into believing them. “These people have let you live in this home, given you money for food, given you company through the year.”

“These _people_ have done nothing for me,” Nesta did not back down. “Just as you have done nothing for me, little sister.”

Feyre opened her mouth, but Nesta was too quick. 

“And to settle this score, Feyre, I am not best friends with the man that hurt you,” she hissed. She did not leave room for her sister to reply as she stormed out of the sitting area, with a heart full of hatred, and a body full of deadly power. 

  
  



	2. Fortune Doesn't Favor Fools

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More character intros lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2!! this was kinda hard to write, so I hope you all enjoy! just a p.s. : this chapter and the one after will be pretty short, since I have to build the world a bit, and introduce some characters! i plan to post the next one tomorrow, and the rest after every other day!

The water used to scare her to death because of the King of Hybern. She would avoid taking long baths and staying out in the rain more than absolutely necessary. The only memory that came with water, was her transformation into this wretched fae body. Into this lesser version of what she really was. 

Now, the water disappointed her. She could take long baths, sink herself into the warmth of the tub, stand in the rain and close her eyes. But now, the water reminded her of Cassian. How he had helped her through the trauma. Held her through every step she took. 

Nesta stood at the same window she did every morning. The same that the small blue bird had landed on. How that small creature reminded her of Cassian. Coward. Today, grey clouds covered the sky, not a single breach to be found within them. Connected like a tight family, unyielding and unbreakable. She quietly scoffed to herself. If Feyre were here, she would connect it to her inner circle. How they always stood by each other, even in the darkest of times. 

_ What bullshit.  _

After another moment of staring at the grey, she softly sighed and made her way to the book that lay on her side table. Farah and Hart. The cover was still covered in dust, but for some inexplicable reason, Nesta could not bring herself to clean it off. She had read it maybe four times in the past two days, ever since her fight with Feyre. No one had visited her since. Not even Elain. 

_ Elain.  _

Nesta balled her fists so hard, a small drizzle of blood came from where her nails had dug in. She tried to not think of Elain. Whenever she did, bottles of wine and rum came out from the closet, and she went so blind she could not say her own name. Along with Cassian, Elain had left her. Not physically of course. Sometimes Nesta spotted her in the garden with Azriel or Morrigan, or roaming the halls with Feyre. But she had never thought to say hello. To check in with her elder sister who had done everything she could to keep her safe. 

She hated seeing her smiling with her new friends, a smile that Nesta had never once seen. Never, had Elain been so joyous with Nesta. Never, had she laughed so hard her stomach went hard. 

_ Perhaps she has always hated you.  _

Nesta felt a cold shiver go down her straight spine. That same voice. A whisper of a deep laugh echoed in her head, but as she scanned her room, she found no one, as usual. She took a breath. This was nothing but her mind playing games with her. But as she undressed herself to bathe, she couldn’t help but feel as if a cold hand was groping her into her stone-hard mind. 

\----

_ “We cannot be together, Hart. We just can’t.” tears rolled down the girl’s browned face.  _

_ “Farah, please. What force is there in the world greater than love?” Hart reached his hand out, brushing her soft shoulder. “I love you, Farah.” _

_ She looked up at him, eyes still brimming with tears. “Hart..”  _

_ They looked at each other. Truly looked at each other. At their eyes, cheeks, noses and mouths. Hart softened, but Farah did not.  _

_ “Fortune doesn’t favor fools, Prince Hart.” she stood, trembling with sorrow. “It is for the good of our people we stay away from each other.” _

_ Hart’s eyes narrowed. “You would leave me at the first sight of misfortune?” _

_ “I would leave you for the good of everyone we love, Hart.” Farah’s voice was strung with desperation. _

_ “We’re in love, Farah,” Hart reached out again, but this time Farah backed away. “Can’t you see that?” _

_ “You’re blinded,” Farah whispered.  _

_ “Farah,” _

_ “No,” Farah shook. “No.” and she ran. Away from the glorious castle, away from Prince Hart, away from all the trouble she had gotten herself into. Away, and into the stars.  _

\----

“Miss Nesta?” a soft voice came from the door, breaking Nesta’s attention from the book. How people loved to break her attention away from the one thing she found joy in. A small Fae female stood in the entryway, holding a platter of cups and plates. “Your breakfast.”

Nesta turned away, once more tucking into the pages. “Leave it on my table.”

The female did no such thing. Instead, she stayed staring at Nesta, a baby deer opening its eyes for the first time. After a minute of uncomfortable reading, she placed the book down and looked to the maid. “Do you need something?”

Her voice broke her out of whatever trance she was in, and she hurried to the table to place down the food. “Incredibly sorry, Miss Nesta,” her voice sounded of daisies. Fresh, fully grown daisies. “It’s eggs, bacon-”

“Just place it down and leave,” Nesta interrupted her, not needing to look at the maid to see her taken aback face. 

“They weren’t lying about you,” she muttered softly, making Nesta tense underneath her gown. The maid left without another word. Shaken, Nesta closed the book and walked to the marble table, examining the perfect food in front of her. Her stomach tightened in anticipation, but Nesta forced herself to stay away. Although Fae food outdid any human recipes, Nesta could not bring herself to eat three meals of it a day. She longed for the times when she was younger, every piece of food being blessed and special. 

She began to lift the plates and dumping the food into her compost bin, wiping each one clean and leaving them outside to be taken away. As she worked, she hummed a small song, one that her mother used to sing to her when she was little, and unable to sleep. One of the few moments she felt loved and cared for. Soon enough, every plate was gone, only leaving the cup of warm tea and the two sugar cubes on the side. 

A knock frightened her as she reached for the cup, a flush spreading across her cheeks. She had been so engrossed with her humming she had turned off all her senses. She reached out with her fae hearing to see who was behind the door, but came up empty. She could only sense an unfamiliar female presence. Another knock, this one slightly louder than the last. Sighing, Nesta placed the tea down and glided to the door. Two more visits than she expected today. 

Regret like nothing else cut through Nesta’s neck as she grasped who stood in front of her. With long blonde hair rolling down her pale elbows, bright green eyes of glass, and a flowing white dress, Nesta could only stop and stare.

“So sorry, Miss Nesta, I just had to come stop by,” Deniasa hurriedly strolled into the room, placing a heavy bag she had been holding onto the ground. Nesta stayed silent, taking a moment to close the door and turn to the female. 

“I realized something yesterday,” Deniasa said, taking Nesta’s couch seat. The Archeron had to hold herself back from ordering her to move. That was her favorite seat. “I’ve been leaving here for almost one year, and I never had the pleasure of meeting you,” she gave Nesta a wide smile. A genuine smile. That smile, and only that, held Nesta back from kicking the sorry fae out. 

“And what, pray tell, reminded you of me?” Nesta kept her voice even. 

“Feyre spoke of you yesterday at dinner,” a dinner Nesta had not been invited to. “She said you loved to read, especially romance,” Deniasa pointed to the bag she dropped. “So I got you some!” 

At Nesta’s silence, Deniasa strode in her direction, her red heels tapping the ground. “They’re some of the best ones I could find,” 

Still, Nesta said nothing, just staring at the female in front of her. 

“I love to read too,” she rambled on. Every word she said was a spike through Nesta’s heart. How different these two females were. “Romance isn’t quite my thing, but I love mystery.”

“Why are you here?” Nesta asked, fully turning her body to Cassian’s mate.

Deniasa tilted her head and smiled wider. “To get to know you, of course.”

“You are not so dumb as to not know what I used to be to Cassian?” 

“Well, of course I know, but that’s all in the past isn’t-”

“You’re a mockery of me,” Nesta’s eyes raged with fire. How insulting, that Cassian would choose this selfish female to be his consort. 

Deniasa’s eyes widened. “I don’t quite know what you mean, Miss Nesta.”

“Please leave, Lady Deniasa,” Nesta had to turn away to keep her powers from lashing out at the fae. 

“Not Lady yet,” she corrected. “Cassian and I are not yet married.”

“You can take this assortment of books with you,” Nesta almost crushed the teacup as she picked it up and placed it to her lips. 

Without another word, Deniasa obeyed, leaving Nesta in the icy silence once more.

_ Cunning _

The voice. Nesta carefully rotated her body, but again, found no one there. She sunk into the couch Deniasa had just left, tilting her head onto the rest. How pathetic she was. 

_ A god.  _

How pathetic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! would love to hear comments about thoughts on Deniasa!


	3. The Ruined Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> World building!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH THIS TOOK SOOO MUCH LONGER THAN INTENDED. getting back to school from winter break? soo much stressful than I thought it would be. Fuck highschool smh. Hope you enjoy!

“They’re both dead, my lord,” the soldier knelt to the power in front of him. “Burned to nothing but ashes.” 

A deep hum came from the throne, a radiant darkness clawing for souls. It bounced off every wall, searching and searching, but coming up with nothing. 

“They were fools,” a female voice said, standing next to where the soldier knelt. “They must have known they would die.”

“I have no doubt they did,” yet another female. “But they died as heroes.” 

Each one had a voice of obsidian, and each stood unyielding. Silence raged through the room, all senses on the lord and what he would say. 

“This cannot be true,” the deep voice finally came, each syllable wrapped in withering death. “They are Gods.”

“The Gods are falling, my lord,” the second female spoke. “It is not surprising death was the first to go.”

A deep growl came from the power, the male standing from the throne and making its way to the three. He paused at the female that had just spoken, drawing a finger through her long, white hair. “How foolish of you to believe such things, Serwen.”

“How utterly  _ stupid  _ of you to deny them, Lord Koschei,” Serwen snapped back, taking a small step away from the death god. 

Her two companions stayed silent, but stood straighter, ready to defend the outspoken female. Koschei slowly moved his soul-devouring eyes to them, examining them with deep interest. 

“Don’t be so hasty, Dasan, Wriala,” he turned back to the throne. “I have no wish to hurt my most  _ trusted advisor _ ,” he held up a hand behind him, signaling to Serwen. “Perhaps I am just overwhelmed at such horrifying news.”

Wriala and Dasan relaxed slightly, taking their hands off their swords and holding them back at their sides. Serwen did not follow them as properly, tapping a polished finger on the bow strapped on her back. Wriala reached out her hand, gently touching her friend’s shoulder - a subtle sign to let this fight go. Serwan glanced at the beautiful brown haired fae for a moment, dropping her hand the next. 

Koschei chuckled, a trail of dark orbiting his arms, “You all don’t seem too unhappy that my wonderful siblings have perished,” he raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

The three stayed silent. 

“The world needs two death gods to keep the peace, no?” Koschei pressed, leaning forward, directing all his attention to Wriala. “You have found another, have you not?”

The female didn’t look at her master as she answered, “My powers have found  _ something,  _ yes,” she laced her fingers together. “If it is a death god, I am not so sure.”

Koschei didn’t answer right away, flicking his wrists so the dark disappeared. “And you?” he turned to Dasan. “What do you think?”

No answer came. 

“Very well,” Koschei’s voice turned an octive toward frustration. “I will find someone else to do this job for me.”

“With respect, Lord Koschei,” Serwan interjected. “We are the only ones with the capacity to do such things.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Serwan,” Koschei’s body began to fade, “I know a certain high lord that owes me one hell of a favor,” at the end of his words, he was nothing more than a voice. 

\----

“Rhys?” Cassian’s worried voice echoed behind him, but the high lord did not turn. He could only stare at the crisp parchment that laid on the table in front of him, glaring up like death. How long he had lived, through countless of unimaginable things, with hundreds of different people. How peaceful these last months had been. How foolish of him to forget. 

“Rhys, what the hell is going on?” Cassian placed his hand firmly on Rhysand’s shoulder, peering over at the table. “What  _ is  _ that? And why are you so riled up over it?”

Rhysand ignored him, grabbing the letter and making his way down the stairs to Feyre’s hallway, almost completely unaware of Cassian behind him, struggling to keep up. He kept his eyes glued to the letter, scared that if he looked away for even one second, it would disappear. He traced every inked line, rereading each syllable, over and over again. 

He began to hear his mate’s soft hum as he got closer, and the sound of a fresh painting being hung on the wall. Regret at the way he would break her out of her peaceful state clawed at him, but he forged forwards. 

“Feyre?” he yelled as she glimmered into his vision. Cauldron, she looked beautiful. A dark blue gown covered the curves of her tall body, wrapping around her chest with a tight bow. Her hair was tied into a loose braid, the edge of it falling over her shoulder, silver ribbons weaving through the brown. He was the luckiest fae alive, to have found someone with such grace. 

She turned his way at the call, giving him a toothed grin, “Rhys, am I glad you came,” Rhys did not smile. He would’ve, had the letter not been clutched in his palms. 

He opened his mouth to answer, but she was already by his side, tilting her head ever so slightly. Her blue-grey eyes studied him with such intensity that his lips shut. 

“Everything okay?” she said softly, connecting her fingers to his. 

Desire ripped through the High Lord, but he roped himself in. “I must show you something, my mate.”

Feyre only nodded, signaling for him to lead the way. Rhysand did exactly that, bringing her to a small study opposite the hallway, pulling out a seat for her to sit. Of course, she did no such thing, insisting to stand. Rhysand debated asking her if it was because she truly wanted to stand, or just because he had asked her to sit. He decided to keep quiet. 

He slowly placed the letter on the desk, bracing his hands on both sides of it. He took a quick glance at Feyre before beginning to read. 

“ _ Dearest Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, and his new High Lady _ ,” he paused to see his mate’s face, which had contorted into sheer confusion. “ _ I am writing to you to collect a favor, one that has been forgotten by you, I am sure, Rhysand. And you, Feyre Archeron, must have not a single idea what I am referring to. _ ”

“Rhys,” Feyre interrupted. “What is this?”

“ _ In recent events, it seems I have lost two very important necessities, not only to myself, but to the world, _ ” he continued, placing a reassuring hand on Feyre’s arm. “ _ My siblings. Fasar and Stryga _ .”

A small gasp came from Feyre, who gripped Rhysand’s hand tightly. “Rhys, tell me this is not from who I think it is.”

Rhys did not respond. 

“Tell me someone else would know the Bone Carver’s true name.”

The High Lord remained silent. Feyre snatched the letter, bringing it closer to her face.  _ “I request something very small from you, High Lord and Lady. Before my brother met his end, he informed me of a higher than fae being living with you and your companions in Velaris… I wish to get a hold of this power. It would be wise of you to cooperate. I expect the favor to be returned in no more than three days, Rhysand, _ ” Feyre began to shake. “ _ Koschei. _ ”

She slowly placed the letter back on the desk, taking the seat Rhysand had previously offered her. “Explain, Rhys, now.”

And so, he did. “Feyre, Under the Mountain was not exactly the way you remember it,” he cringed at the fear that rotated in her eyes at the mention of the place. “When you were killed, it was not as simple as all the High Lords reviving you. Although possible, it would not have turned you into a fae, Feyre. Only a human.”

“So, what?” Feyre demanded, her face turning flushed and red. “What exactly did you do?”

“I prayed,” a simple answer. The truth. “I prayed to anyone that would listen. I knew you were my mate. I knew you would die quickly if resurrected as a human. I prayed, and someone answered. Koschei infiltrated my mind, Feyre. He gave me the power to bring you back to life as fae. He gave me the power to let you live.”

“But it was a favor that broke his laws,” Feyre finished, her voice barely more than a whisper. “And now, he wants my sister. He wants Nesta.” 

**Author's Note:**

> so sorry, I know it was short, but I was just kinda trying ao3 out lol. hope to get these chapters out as fast as possible, and satisfy all of your nesta needs! 
> 
> thanks again and have a great rest of your day!


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